Monday, July 10, 2006

Six years under

Absence on blogs is reprehensible. If tenacity were a credit rating, mine would be falling. Like a credit rating, though, blog stewardship impressions do not reflect the cause of apparent poor management. For example, most people come back to their blogs with confessions of having "been busy," but I am not one of those who has "just so many other better things to do."

You can trash your credit rating in three inquiries, you know, which has nothing to do with solvency. Likewise, remember that while blog entries may grow stale, there are current writings all over the place; I perfer the ebb and flow of voice to land where it matches best.

In other words, the things I've had to say can't come ashore here.

I have been summ-bering, which is a kind of slumber that comes over the brain as summer takes over the temperatures. I haven't been compelled by much I've seen or heard or read, at least not enough to detour back to a computer and get it down to you on this public beach.

A fancy dramatization would involve tropical cocktails, tequila drinks and mojitos as barriers. In real life, the colors are not so simple.

The title of this post is clearly a death metaphor, messy, since so far all I'm doing is casting subliminal lines out towards imagined oceans. Death and ocean meet frequently, but my only intention was to say Happy Anniversary to me, for having stayed at a single job for six years and produced 312 consecutive issues of a many-1,000s-worded publication.